eruvian nose flutes* are tubes that the locals
insert into their nostrils and then blow. There’s
a New York variation that also incorporates
a Peruvian element… but they inhale instead.
Peruvians and Manhattanites might thrill to their
national nasal heritage, but we Australians have luckily
dodged national anything. We have precious few defining
traditions. Surfing, contact sports, extreme cake decorating
and collecting stubby holders are as close as we get.
What are our defining images? Is it something involving
galvo or something involving crochet? How many gumtree
paintings must we endure before our eyeballs start to melt?
Do foreigners look at Australians and instantly know
something… anything… about our national psyche? They
most likely cast a sideways glance and shrug. Much like us.
The defining element of a nation is something that
never really got off on these shores. Didn’t get off the boat
and didn’t take off, either. The indigenous stuff got shoved
aside by sturdy Anglo-Saxon imagery, which then morphed
into wannabe American culture and now, well… who
cares? It’s all global and on Facebook. If there is any regret,
it was perhaps that we missed a wonderful opportunity
to be conquered by the French. It was an oversight that
condemned our forefathers to the monotony of mutton
and black tea and really, really bad English cars.

As a result, we don’t really have much culture. But
then, there are some elements of national culture
we’re probably well enough without. Burmese
tribeswomen have made elongated necks a point of
national identity, Chinese gals bound their feet and
Maoris cover their faces with permanent tattoos.
Worthy and ethnic, sure, but possibly quite painful.
Germans have lederhosen, Scots wear kilts and
Papua New Guineans don penis gourds… all very
cultural but all faintly silly. Young men on Pentecost
Island fling themselves off high cliffs into dashing seas,
Inuits go ice-fishing and Glaswegians drink; all high-risk
activities undertaken in the name of tradition. Culture,
identity, tradition: whatever you call it, we never really
got around to it. Thank goodness. It all could have gone
so wrong, especially with Canberra in charge. If you
need some examples, say Easter Island and think
brooding stony-faced statues, try Transylvania and
reach for an olive stake, think Siberia and it’s salt
mines. Consider the Dutch and it’s wooden shoes.
Japan, well – ever heard of hara-kiri? You never know
what imagery you’d get stuck with when you embrace
a national culture. Best give it a wide berth. And shrug.
*Rearrange the letters and it becomes ‘useful as prevention’
… which seems pretty obvious, really.